Were not our hearts burning within us while He spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us? // Luke 24:32 Sister, have you encountered the Risen Christ in your prayer? Have you walked with Jesus like the disciples on the Road to Emmaus? Have you felt your heart burning within you as Christ opened the Scriptures to you? The heart of Jesus longs to encounter us, especially in the Scriptures. When I first began going to Daily Mass in my early twenties, the Scriptures became more alive to me. I knew many Bible stories from my childhood and had systematically studied the Old and New Testaments in school, but something new began to happen as I received the Scriptures at Daily Mass. Holy Mother Church is a good Mother who feeds us perfect portions throughout the liturgical year. It seemed like the Holy Spirit intentionally highlighted one particular phrase each day from the First Reading, Psalm, or Gospel. I was attentive to the Word of God in a new way. It was fresh and exciting. But the greatest gift to me were the holy priests who would open the Scriptures for me at several different parishes in my neighborhood. As I look back at who God had placed on my path during those years, three of those priests became bishops and several of the other priests had a beautiful charism of preaching. My heart felt so nourished by both the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist, and this nourishment kindled a fire of love within me. During this season of Easter, let us be attentive as Jesus desires to open the Scriptures to us. Christ loves us and knows how to speak to our hearts in a way that we can understand. He is accompanying us on our journey, whether we recognize Him or not. Invite Jesus to stay with you today and always.

Mary Magdalene stayed outside the tomb weeping. // John 20:11 Have you ever seen those shirts that say “I’m with him” and have an arrow pointing to where, presumably, one’s significant other is to stand? Sometimes I wish I could have one of those that points to Jesus. I just want to be where He is. Most of the time, I have no idea where we are or where we’re going or what He’s up to, but I’d just like to remain right by His side. If I leave His side, it always ends poorly. If I stay near Him, my soul is at rest. Saint Mary Magdalene knew this power of staying with Jesus. In today’s Gospel, we meet her standing outside His tomb. Everyone else was tucked away in homes and shelters; but Jesus was Mary’s home and shelter. For years, she had spent her waking moments by His side. He had already saved her once. And even in the wake of His death, she stayed in the only place she knew how—where He was. Easter Sunday was upon her. Jesus was alive. He was moving. But she could not yet see this resurrection, and her grief still overwhelmed her. And yet she stayed. Maybe this is where you are this Easter. You believe that Jesus is alive, but you do not yet see the Resurrection. Maybe you’re standing, weeping, outside the tomb. But friend, keep staying. Stay near the One Who is your home and shelter. Stay near the One Who has saved you again and again and trust that He will come to save you yet again. Stay and weep near Him, weep for Him. Wait for the Lord, Who is our help and our shield, as today’s Responsorial Psalm proclaims (see Psalm 33:20). He will call your name as He called Mary’s, and He will reward your unrelenting faithfulness with His unrelenting presence. {formbuilder:MTAxMDY1}

But God raised him up, releasing him from the throes of death, because it was impossible for him to be held by it. // Acts 2:24 As I scrolled through Instagram, I saw countless happy Easter posts with smiling faces, family dinners, and Easter frivolity. I knew the Easter Octave (the eight days of Easter) was a time of particular joy, but I could not muster any. Most of the Easter celebrations in my life have been happy ones, but there were other Easters when heavy crosses—miscarriages, serious illness, deaths of loved ones—made it hard for me to be joyful. That is why I love this passage from today’s First Reading so much: “But God raised him up, releasing him from the throes of death, because it was impossible for him to be held by it” (Acts 2:24). When we ponder the life of Jesus and see how much He suffered at the end of it, we can’t help but feel heaviness and sorrow. However, not even death could hold Jesus down. He is Hope itself as He conquered death and now leads us to eternal life. So if you are struggling to find joy this Easter season, let us look to the radiance of the Resurrected Jesus. Let Him bring light to the darkness shadowing your heart. Together let’s ask Him to breathe new life and hope into our circumstances and touch our lives with joy. And if you are enjoying the beauty of the season without any major worries, reach out to someone in need and be a ray of hope in their life. Jesus, whether we are experiencing the felicity of the Easter season or struggling through it, fill our hearts with Your love and hope. Strengthen us in our weakness and renew our love and trust in You. Amen. {formbuilder:MTAxMDY1}

My son, when you come to serve the Lord, stand in justice and fear, prepare yourself for trials. Be sincere of heart and steadfast, incline your ear and receive the word of understanding, undisturbed in the time of adversity. // Sirach 2:1 Seed catalogs lay scattered across our kitchen table. Graph paper nearby, and, with a sharpened pencil in hand, I am ready. In this month, where we in western New York find ourselves hunkered down, knowing we’ll see snow for many more weeks, planning a garden is a shining spot amidst dreary days. I am not one to claim a green thumb, but I can research and plan with ease. Plopped in the middle of our nearly two acres is a little gated garden, fenced to protect from deer and purposefully situated just far enough away from the black walnut trees, threatening to kill certain plants before they even sprout. Half is plotted out to allow for ground plants, while the other half boasts two spacious raised beds. With five growing boys, I have high hopes for this garden. I always hope for a great garden return to offset rising grocery costs. But of course, not being a committed or particularly talented gardener, it typically results in a few veggies and not the ideal fully stocked fridge. In today’s First Reading (Sirach 2:1-11), we are reminded to both prepare ourselves and to trust in the Lord. Both are necessary for a healthy spiritual life. Just as I am enthusiastic about my garden preparations, so we must prepare ourselves. But instead of stopping there, diligence and perseverance are required to continue to grow in virtue. Trusting in the Lord is not a one-time decision, but a perpetual choice to nurture and prune of our souls. Lent begins tomorrow, and this is the Church’s gift to you of time set aside to do exactly this. When the weeds of life attack, your preparations and strong roots will stay strong. And when winds, pests, and disease threaten, you can turn back to what you know is good and true and remove what is not of God. I challenge you to take time during Lent to “study the generations long past and understand” (Sirach 2:10). Look up and read about a saint who has gone before you and been victorious. Two saint books I’ve thoroughly enjoyed recently are Pray for Us by Meg Hunter-Kilmer and In Caelo Et In Terra: 365 Days With The Saints from the Pauline Sisters. What would you like to read next?

He said to them in reply, “O faithless generation, how long will I be with you? How long will I endure you? Bring him to me.” They brought the boy to him. // Mark 9:19-20 “It’s all my fault,” I cry to my husband and parents one evening. Words rarely spoken aloud, but often whispered to my soul in my darkest moments, I admitted my deep fears to my family. My parents were visiting, and, over dinner, I shared my concerns about one of my sons. He had been struggling in school with emotional regulation, frustrated outbursts, reading, writing, and class disruptions. This son has always been a highly sensitive child with big feelings. He has an infectious laugh and is empathetic, athletic, and kind. But he can also scream for hours and has difficulty processing his big feelings. Some days he thrives with self-regulation and emotional control, and other days we struggle through each moment. He is my heart walking around the outside of my body. But it is hard at times. Lately, these struggles have been affecting his access to education. My mom helped me draft an email to the school requesting a special education evaluation, and, over dinner, I shared the school’s response to get the process started. But the lies of the evil one whispered to my heart—it’s your fault, you have failed as a mother—weighed heavy on me that evening. It’s those what-if thoughts in the middle of the night that haunt me. What if I did something differently, what if I got him help sooner, what if I didn’t have that emergency surgery during my pregnancy with him, what if I was more present? But my family reminded me of the truth that he is a great kid who may need extra support. We are advocating for him and getting him the resources he needs. Jesus says, Bring him to Me. He dispels the lie that we must do things alone. He walks with us during these challenges. There is grace in the suffering. Sister, bring your worries to the foot of the Cross today. Bring them all to Him. He’s waiting with open arms.

Be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy. // Leviticus 19:2 She sat on the floor, a scattering of puzzle pieces encircling her. Her little hands picked up the pieces for closer inspections. She proudly shifted forward as she fitted pieces together and sagged back when she cast aside those she could not yet place. At times, she’d reference the picture on top of the puzzle’s box, but eventually she sat back and sighed. She was stumped by the trickiest part of the puzzle, where the shapes and colors could possibly go this way or that way, but don’t seem to fit anywhere. I left my chores, knelt beside her, and we finished it together. In the Old and New Testaments the Lord Himself asks us to be like Him: holy and perfect. This instruction can feel overwhelming to me, especially when my life and personal holiness seem to be stuck at the tricky part, a scattering of options that surely fit together, but I just don’t know how. But today’s readings fit together to show us. To begin, we are to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18). And Jesus, who tells us to “be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect,” illustrates how God the Father is generous and kind to “the bad and the good” (Matthew 5:45-48). And Saint Paul reminds us we are holy because the Holy Spirit is within us (see 1 Corinthians 3:16-17). With the Holy Spirit we are able to love and to choose to love, we are able to be holy. Ask the Lord to increase this grace in you.

Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen. // Hebrews 11:1 “How do you know that there is a God?” My college dorm room suddenly felt even smaller than it already was, and the eyes of my doubting roommates rested upon me in anticipation of a reply. The question threw me off-balance. The secular atheism I faced at my very liberal women's college was something new for me. I was a cultural Christian who had grown up in a family of faith. Friends had been mostly Christian or Jewish up until that autumn when I entered an entirely new world. I explained the best I could that was easy for me to believe, and if I was wrong I hadn't lost anything by believing, but that they certainly had by not believing. It wasn't perhaps the best theological response, but it was all I could muster in the moment. And it was honest. Believing in Him was easy. We all believe in things we can not see. We believe the world is turning. We believe that we are breathing in oxygen. We believe in love. We believe in our own futures, dreams, and aspirations. Now, as a mature adult, I have a somewhat different answer. My faith is a lived personal experience rather than an intellectual possibility. I know Jesus is true God and true Man because I have encountered Him. I know God is my Creator and my good and loving Father because I experience His love. I know the power of the Holy Spirit because I receive His grace daily. Saint Thomas Aquinas wrote: “Unbelievers are in ignorance of things that are of faith, for neither do they see or know them in themselves, nor do they know them to be credible. The faithful, on the other hand, know them, not as by demonstration, but by the light of faith which makes them see that they ought to believe them.” Answering the question of our belief in God is not merely knowing the reasons for His existence with our minds. Faith in the unseen is itself an extremely personal act of free will that brings us closer to knowing Him more completely. Take a moment and ask yourself now: how deep is my belief? “Lord, I do believe, help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24).

From his fixed throne he beholds all who dwell on the earth, He who fashioned the heart of each, he who knows all their works. // Psalm 33:14-15 I slowly lift my head from the pillow and glance around the living room. Heaps of blankets are scattered across the floor. My children are sleeping, each with a damp washcloth on their foreheads. There are piles everywhere. Unwashed dishes. Empty tissue boxes. Floors that need to be swept and tables that need to be wiped. Amid my bleary-eyed exhaustion, I want to get up and start cleaning. I want to ignore my weakened body and prove to myself that I can power through anything. It is pride that is fueling these thoughts. Pride that sought to convince me that I was not worthy of rest. However, during this time Jesus spoke tenderly to my heart: “Rest . . . I am the Healer.” Out of obedience I knew that I had to surrender everything, but especially my pride. Stripped of all my abilities to perform, I had to simply rest, and be restored. Sister, remember that rest is holy. I invite you to contemplate how the Lord is calling you to rest more. Sometimes we can forget the sacredness of sabbath. The beauty of embracing a time to pause and recover. A time to allow Jesus to be our healer. Our Savior, the Lover of our soul knows everything that we need. May we lay down at His feet in restful gratitude and allow Him to restore us.

Cristo nos invita a ser honestas con nosotras mismas y con Él. No importa dónde me encuentre en la vida y cómo vea al Señor, Él nunca cambia. Cristo es todo lo que necesitamos y más. Su amor y misericordia no dependen de nuestros sentimientos (¡bendito sea!).

“I will demand an accounting for human life.” // Genesis 9:5 A few years ago, my older brother, now in his sixties, married a lovely woman, a widow somewhat younger, who had three children. He adopted her three children, had three of his own already, and together they have had three more daughters. Number nine is aptly named “Mary Novena.” We tease him, calling him “Abraham.” He has taken the “be fertile and multiply” thing quite literally, and it is clear that nothing brings him more joy than his large and boisterous brood. To visit his home is to step into the happiest chaos; life spills out around the edges of it like a gurgling, spring brook. I, on the other hand, married late in life and will not have children of my own. And yet, I am attracted to this exchange between God and Noah in today’s reading from Genesis. The Lord says, “Be fertile and multiply and fill the earth,” (9:1), and later, “I will demand an accounting for human life . . . for in the image of God has man been made” (9:6). How delightful. How the Lord, God, loves life! He is the author and giver of life, and what a spectacular notion that I have been created in His image in this attribute. So, my life must be fertile. What shall be my accounting in this? With God’s grace, I will be fertile in charity and multiply in works of mercy. With my Father’s blessing, I can fill the earth with prayer, especially for souls who have no one to pray for them, and with praise of His goodness. I can walk through my world as a light, so beautiful, so inviting that others will be drawn to it and want to know its Source. This is what it means to be fertile too, to “abound on earth and subdue it” (Genesis 9:7)—with faith, hope, and charity. Sister, together let’s be fertile in kindness, in works of mercy, and in living as joyful, holy women who have tasted Christ’s redemption. For these bring life too. These multiply the gift of eternal life.

Then he laid hands on the man’s eyes a second time and he saw clearly; his sight was restored and he could see everything distinctly. // Mark 8:25 Let Him look at you. These words spoken by our retreat speaker, not to only me, but the many women who were attending this retreat, caused a familiar discomfort in my wounded heart. I slightly shuttered at the idea of allowing Jesus, upon the altar, to look at me. Due to losing trust in people who I thought cared about me, I would tend to close up and assume that I didn't want to be seen as I truly was. Unfortunately, this wound crept into my ever-growing relationship with Jesus. For too long I would come to Him with a filter on, thinking that I had to clean up my act in order to be loved by Him. In today’s Gospel Reading, we read about Jesus healing the blind man: “Then he laid hands on the man’s eyes a second time and he saw clearly; his sight was restored and he could see everything distinctly” (Mark 8:25). My lack of vision was restored when I drew my gaze to Him on the altar. I truthfully told Him, God, I’m a mess. In His beautiful gentleness, He reassured me, No, you're not a mess. You're My daughter. Sister, He’s not asking for a clean-up version of you. He wants all your brokenness, weakness, struggles, quirks, strengths, and everything in between. The qualities about yourself that you see as burdens are the delights of the Creator’s heart. He’s not here to fix what you think is wrong with you, but instead to redeem your heart and draw it back to His loving gaze. The Love that you’re created for is always ready to restore your sight, so that you will know who you are in His eyes. God, we love You. Please remind us who we are as Your beloved daughters. Help us to root ourselves in Your love. Amen.

“Why do you conclude that it is because you have no bread? Do you not yet understand or comprehend? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes and not see, ears and not hear?” // Mark 8:17-18 In today’s Gospel, Jesus reminds His disciples of what He has done for them in the past. Reading this passage, I felt embarrassed for them, to be honest. The disciples have forgotten the times that Jesus provided not just exactly what they needed, but even a little extra. Jesus had to remind them. Before I got too carried away in my judgment, I felt the Lord gently remind me of my own similar tendencies. In the middle of pondering that very reading, of scoffing at the disciples’ wavering trust, another part of my brain was preoccupied with a few needs in my own life. Would I have enough resources (time, money, energy) to do what God was asking me to do? How would I manage? Would things really work out okay this time? “Do you remember the other times I provided for you,” I heard the Lord ask me in my heart. And there it was, the truth of God’s provision. He provides. He is faithful. It’s scary to rely on the Lord. He is always faithful, but somehow I am quick to forget. I’m tempted by anxiety and worry; the Lord redirects me to a place of surrender and trust. God wants us to be free from cares and concerns; we seem to thrive on them. And here we see the Lord’s very first followers carry that same human condition—a need to be reminded of God’s goodness and faithfulness. He will provide. He has done it for you every other time you’ve had a need. He will do it this time, too, whatever it is that worries you. Ask the Lord to remind you of a time He provided for you when you were afraid He would not. Ask Him to show you any area you need to give to Him so that Jesus can have full control over the things that cause you fear.

Abel, for his part, brought one of the best firstlings of his flock. // Genesis 4:4 Several years ago, an acquaintance of mine named her son Abel. I had never met anyone with this name, so I asked her to share how she and her husband chose that name. She explained to me her admiration of Abel in the book of Genesis. Abel offered his very best to the Lord. This mother desired for her first-born son’s life to be a pleasing offering to God. I appreciated her fresh perspective of this passage. I was familiar with the sad account of Cain killing Abel, but had never given much thought to the hearts of these brothers. Cain and Abel both made offerings to God, but one was more pleasing to the Lord. Abel offered his first fruits and found favor with God. The offering of first fruits is a sign of Abel’s humility, generosity, and trust. In the pursuit of holiness, I want to grow in these virtues of humility, generosity, and trust. I want to offer my first fruits and find favor with God. When I pray the Morning Offering, I offer to God “my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world.” I know that my little offerings of distracted prayers, imperfect work, pleasant joys, and painful sufferings are piddly in comparison to Jesus’ offerings to His Father. This is one of the reasons why I have made Daily Mass a priority for the most of my adulthood. When my little offerings are united to the heart of Jesus, this becomes an act of worship to the Father. The Father truly delights in this offering. The Father wants us to experience the favor that He finds in being His beloved. What will you offer to Him today?

Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift. // Matthew 5:23-24 My stomach swirled, and my palms dampened. I knew what needed to be said. The Holy Spirit had convicted me. Even more, I was confident that I would be received by my friend with love and mercy. But I was nervous to admit I was wrong, to own the hurt I had caused, and to ask for forgiveness. In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks for many verses about the importance of forgiveness and reconciliation. Our forgiveness of others is highlighted, and we often prefer to focus our attention here. It is necessary to reflect on how we have been hurt and to forgive those who were responsible. But we can become so engrossed in forgiving “those who trespass against us” that we miss the precursor of being “forgiven our trespasses.” And, let’s be honest, contemplating our own failings and offenses against others takes a direct hit at our pride and self-righteousness. We aren’t the victims in those instances. We aren’t owed anything—we owe something to someone. People live with the consequences of our sins and shortcomings, and our call is to work for restoration where we have brought destruction (of whatever gravity). Jesus is clear about what we are to do. We need to apologize. These conversations sting, are uncomfortable, and are unpredictable in response. But they bring freedom! There is so much freedom in knowing that I’ve done my best to make a wrong right, humbled myself and asked forgiveness from God and man, and am willing to put in the effort to repair the damage. I am a sinner and will live my entire life making mistakes; but I am also a receiver of God’s grace, mercy, and direction. His conviction is a call to conversion. His promptings are a promise of peace. Who has God laid on your heart today while reading this Gospel? Who do you need forgiveness from? Pray about what God is asking you to do in that situation. Resolve to ask for forgiveness. Open your heart, and the Holy Spirit will grant you the humility, honesty, and hope necessary to do so.

“Who told you that you were naked?” // Genesis 3:11 I don’t like to text. There have been too many occasions where a loved one and I have been having a conversation on our phone and one (or both) of us have gotten our feelings hurt because of assumptions as to how the other intended their message to be read. Isn’t it amazing how a simple sentence, or even just a word, can be interpreted a multitude of ways? So much can be altered depending on the reader, their mood, and the intonation they assume. So I have set a boundary that I won’t have serious conversations via text. And, for the most part, the boundary has been respected, and it has done wonders for communication and relationships as a whole. Unfortunately, the option to set that boundary when it comes to God’s Word in Holy Scripture is not available. What is available, however, are numerous stories and examples of a compassionate, loving Jesus like what is seen in Mark’s Gospel today. “My heart is moved with pity for the crowd . . . . If I send them away hungry to their homes, they will collapse on the way, and some of them have come a great distance" (Mark 8:2-3). So often when I hear the story of the loaves and fishes I skip right to the miracle and ignore this tender moment of Jesus caring for those around Him. His heart was moved into action through His empathy and concern. Passages like this have slowly helped me to better understand the compassionate heart of the Father. A God Who I once thought to be furiously yelling at Adam and Eve when asking, “Who told you that you were naked?” (Genesis 3:11), I now understand to be saddened and disappointed by their actions because He knew their relationship had been severed. It’s incredible how simply knowing Jesus’s goodness can radically shift the understanding of God in Genesis. Thank goodness for the example of Christ’s life and the gift of trusted theologians and scholars to help us continue to understand the tender heart of God and His unending love for us. May we be reminded to look for that tenderness in Scripture and in our written communication with others.

He looked up to heaven and groaned, and said to him, "Ephphatha!" (that is, "Be opened!") And immediately the man's ears were opened. // Mark 7:34-35 I stood nervously in line for the Sacrament of Reconciliation and dreaded each minute that brought me closer to my turn. It had been a long time since I had been to Confession, and there was one sin in particular that I struggled with that I was too ashamed to voice aloud, let alone to a priest. I considered turning around and leaving, but I knew I needed the healing touch of Jesus. Like the deaf man in today's Gospel (Mark 7:31-37), for too long I had been deaf to the voice of God. Instead I listened to the evil one’s rationalizations that I knew what was best for me, just as Eve did in the garden (see Genesis 3:1-8). Also, like Eve, I realized that the temporary pleasure of sin was followed by shame and consequences. I had turned away from the One Who loves me the most. Thankfully God’s mercy and the grace of conversion changed my heart, and I wanted nothing more than to love and serve Our Lord once again. As nervous as I was going into that confessional, I came out with tears of gratitude streaming down my face. I was able to pour out my heart and hear the cathartic and true words, “Your sins are forgiven.” As we come closer to the season of Lent, now is the perfect time to prepare by cleansing our soul in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Don’t let fear or apathy stop you from the healing grace of the Sacrament. If you are nervous, ask a friend to go with you. If you are embarrassed to go to your parish priest, go to another church where you aren't known. If you are unsure of the procedure or what to say, this post should help. Lord Jesus, help us to love the Sacrament of Reconciliation more. May we neither fear it nor take it for granted. May we approach You in the Sacrament with a humble and contrite heart. Thank You for Your mercy, my Lord. 

Soon a woman whose daughter had an unclean spirit heard about him. She came and fell at his feet. The woman was a Greek, a Syrophoenician by birth, and she begged him to drive the demon out of her daughter. // Mark 7:25-26 Growing up in a Jewish home, I’ve always loved the Yiddish word chutzpah (rhymes with "foot spa") and admired those who exhibited this quality. Chutzpah is defined as nerve, audacity, boldness, and incredible guts. It is the willingness to take risks, even if it shocks or surprises others. Perhaps that is why I appreciate the account of Jesus and the Syrophoenician woman in today’s Gospel—a description of chutzpah at its finest! Scene One: Jesus is resting in a house in the Gentile district of Tyre. He doesn’t want to draw attention to Himself or His ministry, but His reputation proceeds Him. Scene Two: A Gentile woman with a tormented, possessed daughter is desperate for help. She doesn’t care that Jesus is unavailable. She finds Him and begs at His feet. Scene Three: What ensues is an honest, uncomfortable conversation between the Jewish Messiah and a desperate Gentile woman. Jesus argues that His mission is first to the Jews. Undeterred and un-phased by Jesus’ apparent resistance, she surprisingly counters with great insight. Will Jesus relent? Will this woman back down? Will the tormented Gentile girl be granted a crumb of healing? Scene Four: The woman with chutzpah models bold faith. Despite obstacles and setbacks, she doesn’t give in to discouragement. What sounds like rejection, she turns into an invitation for perseverance. She knows she doesn’t have a rightful place at the table, yet she asks: “Jesus, give me what I don’t deserve on the basis of Your goodness—and I need it now!” Her remarkable faith draws from Jesus the healing power she seeks. Closing Scene: Jesus loves bold faith, and He is always looking to evoke deeper faith in us. Do we have the chutzpah to seek out the Lord, even when He seems silent and a situation impossible? Do we trust Jesus’ heart enough to engage Him in honest, even uncomfortable conversation? Sister, may we be filled like this woman with holy chutzpah and the unrelenting faith, boldness, and audacity necessary to bring our needs to the One Who loves to save.